


Politics Make Strange Bedfellows

by DarchangelSkye



Category: Music RPF, Real Person Fiction, Rock Music RPF, The Network
Genre: Drinking, M/M, Metafiction, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, Politics, Present Tense, Smoking, Subreality, Wordcount: 100-500, Written in 2007
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-17
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-02-09 06:07:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1971789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarchangelSkye/pseuds/DarchangelSkye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Subreality Cafe Mailing List "My Fellow Subrealizens" storyline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Politics Make Strange Bedfellows

The Fictive lowers the newspaper, and faint blue smoke leaves black lips curled into a cunning smirk.

"Penny for your thoughts?" his companion requests in his half-hiss, sneaking up behind the frontman's shoulder.

Fink puts down his cigarette and indulgently scratches Snoo's chin like a puppy. "What a perfect opportunity," he purrs. "Once this election follows through, bye-bye Writer and Muse dependence."

"I had no idea you were so into politics," Snoo says and steals a swallow from his companion's lager, believing nobody's looking.

A sardonic laugh escapes the other man. "I am when it's politics that can further my agenda. And don't tell me I'm the only one thinking it," he sweeps an arm to indicate the other current patrons of the Bailiwick.

Snoo's blue eyes form wary slits under his garish mask. "If you're thinking what I think you're thinking-"

"I wouldn't finish that thought out loud, then," Fink lowers his voice and brings the cigarette back to his mouth. "Fictive rebellions aren't taken lightly to in civil times. I've read this City's history too, you know." Visions of a few donations to the right party, a little money under the table, some persuasive campaign ads- those were still too good to resist. "But things can change."

 _Madre Mia, talk about pure evil._ The drummer tries slinking away from Fink's charismatic field, but the older man grabs him by the collar.

"And don't pull that holier-than-thou act on me, Samuel," the low tone continues. "This City hasn't been the same for years. I haven't been here as long as _her_ other Fictives, but I know." He shakes his head in distaste, his Writer's name being worse to him than any curse he can think of. "Putting up with her goddess complex, being treated like a paper doll- I know I'm not the only one, I know she's not the only Writer, and I _know_ I'm not standing for it anymore!"

There is so much that could be said, about how his personality was formed long before pen was ever set to paper, how he didn't exactly treat their Writer with much respect either, how not all Writers could be the way he described (and maybe he was getting his facts about her all wrong?)...But Snoo only stays silent and finally draws himself away from Fink's grip. Suddenly he doesn't like the bright glint in those green eyes at all.

The frontman inhales a deep drag like he's wont to do in deep thought. "The new advance from Adeline ought to be enough for a start."


End file.
